


Squeeze

by AngelusAbChao



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Time, Frottage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusAbChao/pseuds/AngelusAbChao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A poltergeist traps the boys in a delicate position, which leads to a new facet in their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Squeeze

“You know what Dean?”  
“What Sammy?”  
“I hate poltergeists almost as much as you hate witches.”

 

Sam shifts uncomfortably in the confined space. Looking around, he tries to get some sense of the surroundings. Nothing. Just complete and utter blackness. Putting his hands out to feel around, he immediately encounters the soft skin of his brother.

The hunt was going so well too. The call from Bobby gave a lot more information that it usually did. An address, the family’s name and the fact that it was probably just an annoying spirit. Even the spirit’s name and the graveyard it was buried in. Simple.

A salt and burn and a quick return to the house to ensure the spirit was gone should have been all that was left to do.

Of course not.

Now the family was gone, ordered out of the house by Dean when they first arrived, and no way of knowing what piece of the puzzle was left behind. And something obviously was. Being thrown against the kitchen wall roughly 10 seconds after coming back to the house told them that.

Things went downhill from there.

They hadn’t even recovered from the initial wave of force when the spirit decided to not only bring most of the second floor down on them, but to shove them on top of each other and into a corner to trap them in the debris.

Now, jammed into a space the size of a small coffin, dust still lingering in both the air and their lungs, they couldn’t see a damn thing. Awesome.

“Sammy?”

“Yeah Dean?”

“I think there is a bathtub on top of us,” Dean groans.

“Of course there is.”

“Can you move at all?” Dean’s question is accompanied by the push of his legs twisting as he tries the same manoeuvre Sam did, feeling around and pressing at the surrounding wood and bits of furniture.

“OW! Hey, watch it!” Sam barks as Dean shoves a questing hand right against his nose with some force.

“Yeah, sorry. I can’t see a damn thing.”

“Can you push back against the stuff above you to get us some more space?” Their torsos are squashed together and having a little more breathing room would be a start. “Or at least can you move to the side so you aren’t squashing the crap out of me?”

“Sammy, if I could move off you, don’t you think I would have already done it?” Dean snaps.

“I think that if you had listened to me and we had done more research on this before we burned the corpse, then we wouldn’t be currently…”

“Sam! Enough! Let’s just concentrate on moving this stuff off us, so we can finish this damn thing.”

“Sure Dean. Let’s do that. Oh wait, WE HAVE A BATHTUB AND MOST OF THE SECOND FLOOR ON TOP OF US”.

“Fine, can you push the stuff up off me, so that I can…” The wriggling against his torso and legs gets stronger. Sam runs his hands up over his brother’s shoulders, feeling the rough bite of the material of his jacket, trying to make his way to the wood above. He finally reaches it, awkwardly putting his arms around Dean and trying to flatten his hands against the uneven surface.

“Okay, ready?”

“Just go Sam.”

Dean feels Sam’s shoulders bunch, the muscles tighten against his chest and the solid arms around him press him harder into the soft cotton of Sam’s shirt. He drops his head lower and suddenly finds his forehead pressing into Sam’s, their lips almost touching. He turns his head, giving Sam a mouthful of hair and moving his face to Sam’s neck. He feels Sam’s quick rush of breath against him, as he makes a spitting noise, trying to clear the hair from his mouth.

“Uh, Dean?” Sam’s voice is strained and he blows again, still trying to clear the hair out of his mouth.

Dean groans. “Just hurry up Sam!”

Dean feels the muscles bunch even further, Christ – just how many muscles does the kid have anyway? – and Sam’s hips jerk up into his groin as he bends his back slightly trying to push. He closes his eyes as the arms around him tighten further, and he feels what little breath he has in him being squeezed out. Sam’s muffled groan of effort is loud in his ears and he can feel the vibrations against his face. He feels the weight on him shift slightly… and settle again. The hard press against his shoulders eases.

“Crap. Did it move a bit?” Sam asks, his breathing harsh and the press of his chest against Dean’s is too fast. He feels eyelashes flutter against his neck and suppresses a small shudder. 

“Yeah, a bit. You up for another go?” I can try to push up at the same time I guess. See if both of us pushing can’t shift it.” Dean runs his hands down Sam’s arms, feeling the whisper of hair against his palms and then the firm press of the floor below. He moves them up until they sit just under Sam’s shoulders in something approaching a push-up position.

Dean feels the muscles bunch around and beneath him and begins to bunch his own. “Now Sam!”

Straining, he pushes his back and neck against the weight above him, arching his shoulders up just as Sam pushes as well, arching his own back. The movement grinds their pelvises together hard and Dean feels the movement and, just for a moment, he eases back out of the push. Damn, that sensation shouldn’t be sending a chill over him. Still feeling Sam’s tight muscles, he begins to push again with every bit of strength he can muster. He’s gotta move this damn stuff NOW.

Sam feels Dean’s muscles tense, push and then falter. What the fuck? But as soon as the thought passes through his mind, he feels Dean push again. Hard. Groaning softly, he feels Dean’s groin press into him and the shiver returns, this time uncontrollably. His body responds by exerting strength he didn’t realise he had.

Nothing. They MIGHT have gained an inch or three of room, but nothing even vaguely substantial.

Finally, Dean feels Sam’s muscles loosen and the hard push of each breath pressing into him, made worse by the fact that his own chest is expanding and contracting as much as it can trying to get breath back into himself. And with each push, his groin digs down slightly, bringing with it an increasing… discomfort.

“Uhh, Dean. I’m starting to get uncomfortable here.”

“I know. Shut up Sam. I’m working on it.”

“Then WHY are you still squirming around? What EXACTLY are you working on?”

“I’m trying… to get… damnit… to my goddamn phone… to call… Bobby…” Dean pants slightly, trying to manoeuvre his body and hands around to reach the phone in his pocket.

“Dean. Stop.” Sam’s voice sounds increasingly strained and Dean stills. “Let me see if I can reach it. Where is it?”

“My jacket pocket. But my jacket is twisted up around behind me…”

“Damnit Dean! Stop moving around like that and let me…”

“Sammy, that’s really not making things any better!”

“Fine. Try to get my phone. It’s in my jeans pocket.”

“Ummm…”

“That’s my knife Dean.”

“K. Ahhhh…”

“That’s my gun.”

“Right. What about…”

“That’s not my knife or my gun Dean!”

“Oh Fuck. Sorry Sammy.” Dean tried hard to make his voice sound contrite.

“Yeah, okay. I think it was more comfortable when you were squirming. Move your hand left and down a bit. There, that should be my phone.”

Sam feels Dean’s fingers dig into his hip and burrow down into the bulge in his pocket. Which is to the left and down from the somewhat different bulge Dean found previously. He can feel the phone slide out and tries to conceal a groan.

“Sam?”

“Just call Bobby, Dean.”

Sam hears the phone dialling and gives out a sigh of relief when Bobby’s voice answers. “What have you two idjits done now?”

The faint light from the phone shows Dean’s face in stark relief. Sam is sure the strained look on his face matches his own.

“Bobby, the damn poltergeist is attached to something in the house.” Dean’s voice is low and gruff, showing his discomfort.

“Well… get rid of it.”

“Yeah, about that. Sam and I are trapped, with half the house on top of us.”

“Goddamn you two! Fine, I’ll be there in a couple of hours.” With an abrupt click, the phone switches off. Sam sees Dean looking at the phone in disbelief for the few seconds the light remains on, and then they are plunged back into darkness.

“Sam. How much air is in here with us?”

“Plenty Dean. The air doesn’t smell stale, so there must be enough gaps.”

“Then why can’t we see anything?”

“Because YOU wanted to come straight back here after doing the salt and burn. It’s night time Dean. Night means you won’t get any daylight. That’s because it’s NIGHT. But it doesn’t mean the air can’t get in. Because AIR is around even when LIGHT isn’t and that’s now because it’s NIGHT!”

Silence.

“So. Now what?”

Sam sighs heavily. “I guess we make ourselves comfortable and wait.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m bored.”

“Damn it Dean. Stop MOVING!”

“Sam? Why are your pants wet?”

“Well, remember that bathtub?”

“Yes…”

“Okay, so there were probably pipes attached to it. And that means water. And now the pipes aren’t attached any more. It’s been dripping on me since we got stuck.”

“Uh huh. Sam, you know it’s a natural physiological reaction…”

“Dean! Seriously…”

“I’m just sayin’…”

“Yes Dean. I know it’s a normal reaction. It’s the same reaction you are having.”

“Yeah, but I’m a guy Sam.”

“So am I!”

“Yeah, okay, sometimes you are. Like now for instance.” Sam can hear the grin in his voice.

“Dean. Why are you moving again?”

“I’m trying to get comfortable. YOU said we should.”

“Well, that’s not making me very comfortable.”

“Enjoying it are you? Ow! Sam!” The hurt in Dean’s voice was there, but there was no surprise in it at all.

“You deserved that.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t.”

“Dean, given that you are currently almost kissing my neck while grinding yourself into me… I think you did.”

“I can name a hundred women who have enjoyed it and didn’t hit me.”

“A hundred? Seriously? There are that many women whose name you ACTUALLY found out at the time and can remember?”

“Well, okay, so maybe not NAMES as such…”

“And anyway, I’m not a woman. A fact which we have already confirmed.” Sam stopped and wondered whether he should ask something he had always wondered about. His brother did sometimes seem to… overcompensate a little. Finally his mouth decided to plunge on without waiting for his brain to make the decision. “So… men then.”

“Uhh, what?”

“How many men can you name that have enjoyed it.”

“Ummm… one?” The teasing in Dean’s voice was getting stronger now. It was approaching the tone he used to use when Sam was eight and he was on the verge of a “tickle game” to bring his little brother out of some funk he was in over something.

“We haven’t confirmed that I’m enjoying it yet.”

“Ok. So are you?” 

“Wait. You WERE talking about me weren’t you? As the one?”

“Sam, if you are going to keep moving like that…”

“Well? You haven’t answered the question. And I can FEEL you rolling your eyes at me!”

“Yes Sammy. You are, and have always been, the one.” Dean’s eyes widen. What the hell just came out of his mouth? Where did that even come from? But he can’t back down from the joke now.

“I… don’t know what to say to that.”

“Well, you could start by telling me if you are enjoying it.” Now Dean’s mind and mouth feel totally disconnected. What is he doing? Sam is obviously having trouble with this and while they have sometimes taken jokes a little too far, they have never crossed any lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Dean has never, ever, slept with an unwilling woman, and suddenly this is starting to feel like he’s pushing that boundary.

“Dean…” Sam is intensely grateful for the darkness. He is having trouble thinking. Was he enjoying it? Should he be? What was Dean playing at? Should he just go with… god that feels good… it? Suddenly all movement from above him stopped.

“Dean?”

“Sammy, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I mean… C’mon, I’m your big brother and it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t… oh god… I mean not that I should ever…

“Dean. Shut up will you?” 

The silence in the darkness is almost painful. Dean lifts his head until it is pressed against the panel above him, but he can still feel Sam’s warm breath on his cheek. Feel the hard bulge in his jeans pressed into the bulge in his own. He should have known better than to push things too far. He hadn’t even intended it. It just kind of… happened. A joke taken too far.

His whole body jerks when a soft, silken touch whispers down the side of his nose and over his lips. There is a moment, a tiny second, of pressure and then it is gone.

“Sam?”

“Yes. I was enjoying it. I guess I wouldn’t be reacting the way I did if I wasn’t.”

“Sammy, I’m sorry. It was just a joke. It’s not the first time we’ve both gotten hard. When we are sparring it sometimes happens, you know that. It’s just a reaction to friction. I was stupid to push it and force… no, I would never force anything… you know that…”

Sam shifts a little, reaching his hands around Dean until they are pressed against his back; wriggling their way under the twisted jacket and hiked up shirt. “Dean. I know that. I wasn’t talking about getting hard.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking about the fact that… Well… Okay. We haven’t really ever been shy when it came to talking about having sex with other people have we? I mean – not the details. But the fact that we do it… sometimes. Well, you do, more often than I do, but still…”

“Sammy, what the hell are you talking about?” Dean can’t help wondering just when this spiralled completely out of control. He can still feel Sam’s hands moving across his back, and each breath that Sam takes rocks against his chest, creating small movements in his groin.

“I mean, Dean, we don’t exactly think sex is dirty, or wrong, do we?”

“But you are my brother and I…”

“And I’m a consenting adult with my own mind in an equal relationship with you. I don’t follow your orders blindly and I make my own decisions. There is no power game here. There is nothing except what we have always been to each other.” 

“Sammy…”

“I told you to shut up Dean.” Sam lifted his face up, searching, until he felt the first touch of skin against the end of his nose. Running it along Dean’s face, feeling the rough scratch of stubble, gently nuzzling until he found the swell of lips. Moving slowly, giving Dean plenty of time to pull away, he pressed his mouth closer, filling the gap between those lips with the curve of his own upper lip. Gently he let his lower lip push in, widening the gap and feeling the damp of the skin behind the fullness. Sucking slightly, he felt warm, uneven breath beat over his chin.

Dean couldn’t think. He knew he could breathe, he could feel the air fill his lungs, but he couldn’t control it. Feeling Sam’s mouth on his, the hot breath being shared, the press and swell of muscles and the hands - oh god, the hands moving lightly over his back, he was losing control. He could feel it slipping through his fingers and with it went all pretence of denial. Losing himself in the body of another person, the touch, the scent, was familiar and sweet. Losing himself in Sam’s body was new and terrifying. The darkness was wrong, he needed to see Sam’s eyes, needed to see the reassurance and love he knew, deep inside, was there for him. He couldn’t do this without seeing it. He just couldn’t.

Sam pulled back, leaving the sweetness of Dean’s mouth. Dean hadn’t pulled away, but hadn’t pressed forward either. 

“Dean.” Sam put every ounce of himself into that single word. The love he felt right then for the man who had sacrificed himself in almost every way possible for him. He had taken the hit, taken the bullet, taken the fall. He had given his trust, given his love and given his life. All for his Sammy.

Dean felt the word wash over him. His name, said thousands of times but never like that. Never like a prayer. It was enough. He didn’t need to see it any more. He could hear it.

“Sammy.” His lips pressed down hard, not needing sight to reach the lips that had uttered that word. As soon as they met, his tongue was against them and then inside meeting Sam’s tongue and exploring the mouth that had just shaped his name. When his teeth grated across Sam’s teeth he realised he was allowing a violence that might have been what he needed, but wasn’t what he wanted. He eased back. “Sammy.”

His lips, now gentle, returned and Sam couldn’t stop himself from digging his fingers into Dean’s back. The fierceness he had felt in Dean’s first kiss had stirred flutters in his stomach, which seemed to connect directly to his cock. The new gentleness now turned those futters into full-blown desire, his jeans tightening and starting to cut into him. He moved his hands down Dean’s back, trailing fingers lightly across the sweat slicked skin, until they came to the top of Dean’s jeans, then let them fall to the sharp jut of Dean’s hips. Now his palms pressed to the rough denim, he moved them down, squeezing them between the plasterboard pulling sharply at the back and the material. Finally reaching the curve of the inside of Dean’s pelvis he brought them together, touching the heavy bulge and pressing firmly, using the heel of his hand to make tiny circles. He could feel the sharp prick of the metal teeth of the zipper, and the blunter metal of the button. Leaving one hand to continue pressing, he moved the other up until his fingertips brushed the circle of the button, feeling at the rim and tracing its circumference. He could feel each movement his hands made mirrored on his own cock and the sensation would have almost been too much, if it hadn’t been blunted by the overwhelming sensation of Dean’s mouth on his.

“Oh God!” It came from Dean’s lips in a whispered breath as he moved to run his lips down and along Sam’s chin. Feeling the gentle roughness there, he started leaving little nips. The feeling of Sam’s palm against his cock was incredible combined with the almost hesitant fingers on the button of his fly. Shifting a little, Dean moves his hand down to reach for his brother’s working his way between them until his palm met the one thrusting up into his now completely erect and cramped cock. He laced his fingers through Sam’s, pushing down so knuckles now dug into sensitive areas creating little ridges of pleasure for both of them. His other hand took hold of the one playing with the button on his jeans and he moved it up next to them, not needing anything more than the feeling of their entwined hands between them. Sam’s hands were so big in his, yet so familiar.

Sam gasped, his hips jerking up at the delicious sensation of his brother’s hand in his putting so much gentle pressure on him. He can feel the little jerks Dean makes in response to each thrust of his hips and suddenly the intimacy of the moment is almost too much. He wants… oh God he wants… but he isn’t sure of what. “Harder Dean. God, please, harder.”

“Shhhh Sammy. “ Dean can’t help but dig his hips harder in response to the impassioned plea. His movements create waves of pleasure in his own body and he grips the hand in his tighter, until he is sure the long fingers wrapped around his must be close to breaking point. But stopping now… he can’t even think about it. Sam’s palm moves again, pushing their hands slightly further down between them and now he can feel wetness soaking through his jeans and onto the back of his hand. He’s like a teenager again, warm and messy in the back of the impala, trying to learn how to make a woman respond to his touch. But this. He knows Sam. He knows him as he knows the inside of his beloved baby. Like he knows his own body. His own heart. “Sam, I’m gonna…”

“God, Dean. Yes. Please.” Sam thrusts harder, moving both his hand and his hips in small circles, feeling the pleasure wash through him at each thrust, each tiny jab of knuckle, each press of fingertips into the valleys on the back of his hand. Dean’s hand in his is a lifeline, grounding him in the reality of what is happening. He softly moves his other hand out of Dean’s gentle grip and finds his way down to the curve and swell of his ass. Spreading fingers wide, he kneads the cheek with rough pulses, pushing his fingertips into the slight valley between them. With the new movement comes a choked groan against his neck, and he can’t help but push harder and faster, wanting to give Dean everything he has. Everything he is.

It’s too much. Dean has lost himself in the feeling of Sam. He can’t register anything else and the sudden crest of sensation takes him completely by surprise. Moaning now, his cock pulsing jets of warm, sticky come into his already sodden jeans he rides the wave, rides it and pushes it further, wanting to return the gift. Sam’s sudden hitch of breath and moan is answer enough. The thrusting below him slowly gentles and stills as his own hips, now moving in slow surges, finally halts. Their breathing, ragged and fast calms as their mouths meet, slowly. Carefully. Lovingly.

The darkness is kind now as the reality of what they have just done seeps into both of their minds. The first sounds of scrabbling are filtering through to them and they know that in a very short time Bobby will have worked his way through the mess and will be pulling them up and out of the warm darkness and into the harshness of the poltergeist they still need to finish. But for now, their hands remain entangled and their lips remain joined and their hearts beat in rhythm.

\--fin--


End file.
